A Brief History of John and Sherlock
by Nurmengardx
Summary: Mycroft remembers John and Sherlock through their early years. Kid!lock, Johnlock


It wasn't surprising when you looked at their lives together, Mycroft thought. He'd have said it was destiny if he believed in it and, though he didn't, they came pretty close to convincing him. The first time they'd met was at nursery. Mycroft had no idea how John had managed to get in because it was one of those ridiculously expensive nurseries that Mummy had insisted on sending Sherlock to. It was Father's money they were spending so it didn't matter that much, but John's family was far off from being able to afford it. Mycroft assumed he must have crawled in through the back door from the public nursery next door.

Most people would think that it was immediate, the sort of thing that happens in stories, that they looked at each other from across the room and instantly fell in love. In actual fact, nothing less than the opposite happened. Sherlock didn't even notice John for at least half an hour and likewise, John paid no attention to Sherlock (although he almost definitely noticed him as he was building a giant sculpture of an eagle out of lego). When Sherlock finally did notice John, it was because John had tried to take some lego for his own building but Sherlock insisted that he needed all of them. John scowled at him and moved off and went to play by himself. For their first meeting, they really didn't like each other, John especially disgusted by Sherlock's unwillingness to share. After about an hour, the supervisor finally realised that John wasn't one of her kids and took him back to his own nursery.

The next time they met, three years had passed and Sherlock found himself in the local comprehensive primary school, having been kicked out of his private one for blowing up the tiny kitchen where the little ones did simple baking. He didn't even try to say it was an accident. So when he finally arrived at his new school even the younger ones knew what he'd done and they all shunned him for it. All except John. Neither of them remembered that John had once snuck in to Sherlock's nursery and why should they? But feelings of dislike still lingered even though John made a valiant attempt to get over it. But for all his efforts, he just couldn't seem to bridge the distance. Perhaps if Sherlock had even tried then maybe there could have been progress, however there was no persuading him and John's little endeavour culminated in Sherlock throwing a tantrum and ripping up a picture John had spent hours drawing. After that they never spoke and John became good friends with a girl named Molly Hooper, while Sherlock remained alone.

For years they never so much as looked at each other until their third year at secondary school. The private schools had all refused to take Sherlock and Mummy had a tough enough time convincing the public school to take him, but take him they did. Sherlock caused almost more trouble than he was worth but regular donations from Mummy softened the blow that Sherlock caused when he threw his form tutor's keys on the roof, or the numerous amount of times he blew up the science lab (most of these were genuine accidents. Sherlock couldn't see the point in blowing up valuable equipment) and John grew in popularity. He had a small group of close friends and everyone recognised the fact that he was a nice guy, often smiling at him and making light conversation. One day he was walking down their science corridor when large amounts of smoke began to issue from inside a classroom. Everyone scattered and the pupils staggered from the room, choking and retching, followed by their teacher. John asked one of the girls what had happened. Between coughs she explained that Sherlock had mixed a few too many of the chemical and that she had no idea how he'd got them,

'…and I think he's still in there,' she gasped. John's mouth fell open as he gazed at the smoke filled room. He couldn't even see through it and the teacher was still gasping for breath some way down the corridor. To this day, John was still unsure why he did it, but he pulled his jumper over his face and braved the fog of noxious gases. It was easier than he had expected, finding Sherlock. All he had to do was find the place where the smoke was coming from and feel for him on the ground. In this instance the long limbs that he so often had trouble controlling came in handy. John reacted better than he thought he would under stress, not realising he even had the brains to know to pull off his jumper and wrap it around his face so that he could lift Sherlock with both of his hands. When he got them both out, he heard that someone had had the sense to set off the fire alarm and also that he had a peculiar burning sensation in his lungs. He set Sherlock down carefully and then lay down himself, relieving some of the pressure in his chest. When someone flashed a light in his eyes he flinched and heard the person sigh in relief.

'He's conscious,' a woman said.

'Where's…?' he mumbled.

'He's already in the ambulance, love. I'll just put you on this stretcher and take you to him. Friend of yours?' she asked. John chuckled weakly.

'Not really.'

'Well, all the same that was really brave of you,' she grunted while shifting him on to the stiff piece of plastic. As they loaded him into the ambulance John caught a glimpse of Sherlock wearing an oxygen mask before he had one placed on his own face. Then the sirens screamed on and John thought that Sherlock must be in worse condition than he thought. They got to the hospital in just under ten minutes and Sherlock was rushed away while John was transported to a quiet room and examined.

'Is Sherlock ok?' he asked as a nurse took his blood pressure.

'He inhaled quite a bit of the gas, but I think he'll be fine,' he said kindly. Once he had finished his examination, he made John lie down quietly and wait. After a while, they wheeled Sherlock in, unconscious and still wearing the oxygen mask, and hooked him up to an IV drip. For the rest of his life he would make a strange wheezing sound as he breathed after exercising. John couldn't help but see how small he looked beneath the thin covers. Wearing his uniform and his huge ego as a cover, he'd always seemed larger than life. That was the first time he'd felt stirrings over protectiveness, although they were soon overridden by the arrival of his family.

Mycroft recalled that after that day, John never let anyone say a bad word against Sherlock and he, in time, stopped resisting John's hand of friendship. For the first few weeks of their new friendship, Molly walked around the school looking thoroughly dejected at having lost her best friend to the school nutcase, though she soon made friends with a girl named Irene and forgot about John's 'betrayal'.

They were inseparable. Sherlock would often skip his own lessons just to go and sit with John in his. None of the teachers seemed to mind, though it was, strictly speaking, against the rules, they were all just secretly glad that Sherlock had finally found someone to bounce his ideas off instead of using school property to do so. Then things started to change again. John started looking at Sherlock differently, like he was completely new to him. Mycroft supposed it was the new haircut so that now people could actually see his face and his gift of unusually sharp cheekbones (he also wondered about Sherlock's sudden interest in his hairstyle as he would normally avoid scissors like cats avoid water) but now, of course, it all seemed obvious. In actual fact he had walked in on their first kiss.

It was a hot summer's day and Sherlock had invited John in for a cold drink. Mycroft had seen it coming for a while now and took note of the fact that Sherlock had worn his older shirt that day, the one that he couldn't do up all the way because it was too tight. This fact was also not lost on John, who frequently glanced at Sherlock's chest. Mycroft left the room to see whether he could find his glass and when he walked back into the room, Sherlock had lifted John onto the kitchen counter and was kissing him quite fiercely.

'Oh, don't mind me,' he said pleasantly, causing Sherlock to jump away. 'It's like I'm not even here.'

He went to the fridge, poured himself a drink of iced tea and walked out, faintly laughing at John's gobsmacked expression.

Though they had their moments, John and Sherlock never left each other. Not when Moriarty tried to kill both of them, not when Sherlock drugged John's tea and not when Sherlock faked his own death.

Sherlock could feel Mycroft's eyes on the back of his head and knew that he was reminiscing, just the same as they were. He glanced at John who was standing next to him.

'I can't believe you convinced me to do this,' he grumbled, though not without amusement.

'No, neither can I,' he replied, grinning from ear to ear.

'You know, Mycroft still thinks that day in the kitchen was our first kiss.'

John laughed loudly.

'God that day in the kitchen. You wore that shirt on purpose just to annoy Mycroft.'

'Don't pretend you didn't love it,' Sherlock smiled. He kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Come on, they're all waiting for you to tell them the glaringly obvious.'

'What, that we're engaged? Damn, I thought we'd managed to keep that one fairly secret,' he said sarcastically. Sherlock chuckled and went to get drinks while John made the announcement. He knew how lucky he was to have found someone like John, especially a person like himself and he couldn't possibly think of someone he would rather have had save his life.

* * *

_Inspired by mypatronusisaconsultingdetec tive (tumblr) i did a thing in the middle of the night because boredom. have fun._


End file.
